Chapter Text
The day usually starts off the same for Henry.
Wake up with the alarm, turn it off, sit up and grab the crutch before leaving the room as silently as possible, then make his way to the kitchen to turn the kettle on. Coffee is the most important drink after all. Grab two cups and put a spoon of instant coffee into both cups, but only one with a sugar and a half. Next, put bread into the toaster, and place the jams onto the kitchen table. The kettle goes off, so pour the now hot water into the waiting cups of coffee. Always make sure to put milk into the cup with sugar. Place both cups on the table alongside the jam. The toast will pop next, so he’ll grab them and put one toast into two different plates, before taking those to the kitchen table as well. Finally, take the seat closest to the wall, lean the crutch on the wall before finally enjoying that first sip of black coffee. It wouldn’t be too long after until Linda would enter the kitchen, kiss his closest cheek, take the opposite seat and enjoying her own coffee with … Uhh, It looks likes strawberry jam on toast today.
All in all, life was consistent, average, and safe. At least, that is what Henry though.
It wouldn’t be too long before he would need to leave for his consistent, average, and safe job though. Office work was boring and definitely not what he would have liked, but it paid the bills.
--
Henry was happy that it was Friday. After work, he was offered by his co-workers to head to the pub for a drink and loosen up after the working week, but declined saying that his leg was playing up. Pulling his car up onto the driveway, he noticed that Linda’s car was missing.
Walking through the front door, Henry locked it and leaned back against it before sighing. ‘What a day.’ He thought before pushing off the door, and headed towards the kitchen. He flicked the lights on in the kitchen and wiggled out of his suit pants before taking a seat. Henry was more than glad to take his prosthetic leg off. The scar on the end of the stub was itching.
After being drafted into the war in 1941, Henry spent the next year training. The next two after that was spent on the Western Front. During his service on an operation behind the enemy lines, Henry’s squad was spotted and even though they managed to fight off the opposing forces, a grenade was thrown as a last ditch effort, right in the middle of the squad. Two men were killed, and seven others were injured. Henry was one of the more severe cases. The explosion caused a large piece of wood to drive into the lower part of his left calf, and poke out on the other side of his leg. Unfortunately the medic of the group was one of the ones that were killed, and the squad was forced to retreat to the closest allied camp.
By the time they managed to get there, Henry’s wound had inflammed and festered leaving him in agonizing pain. The doctor had tried to clean the wound up, but after a few days had declared the wound had become necrotic all through the wound, and had to amputate the lower part of the leg just below the knee.
It saved Henry’s life, but the cost of losing a limb had caused him to be discharged from service. Linda had been in tears when she had seen him, happy that he had survived from the ordeal.
Henry had been wheelchair bound during the recovery stage. Linda had been supportive of him the entire time, taking him to doctor appointments, as well as physiotherapy appointments. It had been a dark time in Henry’s life, but Linda was like an unmovable beacon of hope through it all, and he knew he could never repay her for that. It wasn’t too long after that Henry got his own prosthetic. It was this rubber and plastic contraption with metal joints, and Henry didn’t take a liking to it at first. Using it was tricky, and a bit uncomfortable on his freshly scared leg, and it was a struggle to walk with it even with a clutch. After the first week, he was more than ready to thrown it into the bin, but Linda convinced him to keep trying, and so he did, even if it was just for her. A few months in, Henry, was able to walk with the prosthetic without any kind of support. Things started to get better for him then. As the years went by, he became less, and less depended on his crutch, even if he kept a slight limp in his walk. There still came a time once in a while where he would need it.
Then there were the random times where Henry still able to feel his limb as if it hadn’t been removed at all. His doctor called it a phantom limb, where the brain can still feel the missing part of his leg. It was an itchy feeling, which was exactly what Henry was feeling at the moment.
After scratching the stub and sighing in relief, he leaned back into the chair and looked onto the table. Linda had left the mail with his name on it, and on top, a little hand written note.
Hey Hen,
Barb had called, saying that she needed help arranging her garage. (I have no idea why though!) You know how she gets when it comes to organising! I swear my sister is useless, but hey, she also offered dinner when we were done. Sorting things out might be a nightmare when it comes to her, but her cooking is probably the best, plus she has wine! The good stuff! Yes! I promise I’ll only have one glass though, still got to drive home after all. I won’t be home until late, but there are left overs in the fridge that you just need to warm up. Don’t worry, I’ll bring some of Barb’s delicious leftovers home for you too.
Love you! XX
Henry snorted with a smile and put aside Linda’s note, before picking up the small pile of letters. Bills, a catalogue in a letter, but what caught his attention was the last letter. It was slightly yellowed around the corners with one of the corners looked like ink had spilled and saturated it. It was clearly addressed to him. Turning the letter around, he noticed there was no sender address.
“Looks like it’s a hundred years old.” He mumbled to himself as he casually ripped one of the ends off and pulled the letter out. The back of the letter, curiously so, also had some ink specks on it, but the all the edges had looked like it had been dipped in ink. The entire thing looked even more yellow than the envelope it had come up. Henry gave it a weird look before flipping it around and reading it.
DEAR HENRY,
IT SEEMS LIKE A LIFETIME AGO SINCE WE WORKED ON CARTOONS TOGETHER. 30 YEARS REALLY SLIPS AWAY, DOESN’T IT?
IF YOU’RE BACK IN TOWN, COME VISIT THE OLD WORKSHOP. THERE’S SOMETHING I NEED TO SHOW YOU.
YOU’RE BEST PAL,
JOEY DREW
“… You got to be kidding me.”
--
“I mean, I just don’t get it! ‘You’re best pal’?! He can’t be serious!” Henry complained from the bedrooms ensuite, as he shaved. Linda, already in bed and reading, looked up over her glasses and stared at Henry.
“Maybe he just wants to reconnect to you. You both used to be the best of friends after all. You should go and see him at least. ” Henry scoffed before rinsing his blade and placing it besides the sink. He grabbed a towel and dried his face, and looked over to Linda, who was still staring at him over her reading glasses. She raised an eyebrow at him.
“Linda, I tried to contact him all those years ago, remember? I wanted to get back into animating, work on the cartoons again. I thought that since I was sent home, if I just contact him we could at least talk, but nope! I never got a reply back from him. I even sent a letter to his house address, and even then I got nothing, not even a single reply. But now, thirty years later, he wants to show me something? Oh wait, I’m sorry, he ‘needs’ to show me something. HA! Yeah right.” Henry said. He grabbed his crutch before headed towards the bed to join Linda.
“I understand that we had a bit of a heated argument when I told him I was leaving.”
“Understatement of the century. You’re also quite a hothead too Hen, I know you wouldn’t have remained calm in that situation, no matter what you’ve told me.” Linda added, as she moved the blankets so Henry could sit down.
He leaned his crutch on the wall and slid into the bed and put the blankets over him. He stared at his hands as he rubbed them. “How was I supposed to know he would be so livid! I was drafted, it’s not like I couldn’t go. I thought he would understand that! And I guess arguing back to him about it didn’t help. The studio was doing so good, the Bendy cartoons were doing so well, I’m sure we could have expanded! Get more talent into the studio. If I got back, smooth things over with Joey, we could have probably been as popular as Walt Disney! The possibilities at the time were endless.” Henry sighed. He looked over to Linda.
“Anyway, I guess boot camp kind of pushed the argument to the back of my mind. I know there were more important issues that I needed to deal with. It just gets me so angry knowing that he wants to get into contact now, after all this time.”
“What ever happened in the past, should stay in the past. I know that the whole thing has left an ugly mark on both of you. Though, that said, should still try to get into connect with him again, clear up the air. Perhaps seeing Joey in person instead of sending a letter might be the right step.”
“But … Linda … Damn, I hate when you’re right. There is still something in me that wants to fix what friendship I had with Joey, despite how annoyed I am at him.” Linda just smiled. She slipped her bookmark into the book before placing it on her bedside table.
“Well, it is Saturday tomorrow, and even though it’s just over an hour drive, you should go. See how the old studio is going. Talking about the studio, I haven’t seen a cartoon made by them in a while.”
“Neither have I.” Henry mumbled in thought. “Well, they still have to be in business. The letter says that the studio is still there … Even if the letter looks incredibly old. What? He can’t spend a bit of money on new paper, and has to send an ink stained, yellow letter to me?” He scowled before laying down “I don’t know Linda. Maybe I’m just getting all worked up over this but I’m just getting a nagging feeling in my gut about all this, and I don’t know if it is a good one or not.”
“Well you’ll find out tomorrow.” She leaned over and turned off the lamp.
--
After the usual morning routine and saying goodbye to Linda, Henry headed off to the studio.
In his deep blue 1968 Plymouth Road Runner with his window rolled down, Henry drove into the town where the studio resided. Stopping at a traffic light, he tapped a finger on his steering wheel along to the tune of the Beatles ‘Twist and Shout’ as it played on the radio, as he looked around. Not much had changed in the town. There was a few new buildings, and some business that had replaced others. The lights turned green and he drove off. Driving down the main street, Henry noticed that the café he used to go too had been replaced by shoe shop. Oh well. They used to make great cappuccinos.
After a few turns, Henry had finally turned into the street where the studio resided. Coming up noticed that the small employee carpark in front of the building was strangely empty. Henry knew that people worked on the weekend. He remembered having a discussion with Joey about letting staff having the weekend off, only to come to a compromise to have Sundays off.
Henry parked his car at the end of the lot and looked down at the passenger seat. The letter Joey wrote to him sat there and Henry gave it a hard look. He skimmed the writing then closed his eyes and inhaled deeply releasing his anger at all of this, before grabbing it and getting out of his car. He locked the door and slipped the key into his back pocket with his trusty multi tool. He looked up at the studio, seeing the massive ‘Joey Drew Studio’ sign. The sign looked old, like it hasn’t been maintained throughout the years. He then glanced all over the building, noticing all the wear and tear. ‘What happened here? It looks like an abandoned building. Is the studio really doing that terribly?’ He walked to the front door, grabbed the handle, but didn’t turn it. He knew if he went in there, something was going to change, whether good or bad. The feeling in his gut told him it was going to be the latter. He really was hoping that it wasn’t.
“Alright Joey. I’m here. Let’s see if we can find what you wanted me to see.” ‘Then I’m out of here.’ Holding his breath, Henry turned the knob and walked into the building.